


It's a Mercy

by Findingthestars



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Demonic Possession, Demons, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findingthestars/pseuds/Findingthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock does everything in his power to release John from demonic possession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in August of 2012. Thus, it was unknown that Sam was _not_ looking to save Dean from purgatory.

_It’s a mercy._

When those damnable eyes weren’t blackened, it took every ounce of Sherlock’s considerable will to not succumb to a cliché scream of agony.

For he saw. He saw John. He saw the indescribable pain. The terror.

He saw how utterly John was lost in place.

_It’s a mercy._

For everything he had, he could do nothing. Every text he read. Every connection. Nothing could be done.

_it's a mercy._

He’d heard of two brothers. Two brothers that defied reality. Or, reality as he had known it. But one brother was gone. When Sherlock informed the other that he had the power of the entire British government at his hand; the remaining brother-he couldn’t remember his name, something with an S?-had let loose a single, broken laugh. He’d informed Sherlock that purgetory couldn’t wait but London could. He said that John was all but lost. That someone named Bernard might be able to help.

Then the brother’s voice became quiet. He told Sherlock that it was almost impossible to exorcise a demon without exorcising the life of the one it held. Even then, the life remaining would never be what it once had been.

When Sherlock began to threaten, to deduce, to insult, the man on the other mobile, one an entire ocean away, had simply muttered “jerk” and hung up.

Sherlock called Mycroft to insist he find the remaining brother and force him to the flat. For the second time in Mycrofts considerable life within the government; he was unable to find a single, possibly-not-ordinary, man.

_It’s a mercy_

Bernard arrived. He never addressed Sherlock. Never even looked at him. Bernard had drawn something on the ceiling. When he finished he’d grunted out; “never been paid such a bloody sum for such a simple task. Don’t know why the fuck he won’t trust me to finish the damn thing.” Bernard then looked at Sherlock for the first time “you certainly won’t be able to.” Bernard called out as he descended the stairs “it won’t be him when _he’s_ in there.”

The demon had walked into the room and frozen. He looked up to the ceiling and never lowered his head until Mycroft had shown.

Mycroft had brought someone. When Sherlock had looked at the man he could discern nothing from him. He couldn’t even decide if he _was_ a man. The man had peered at the demon. The demon had laughed.

It wasn’t John’s laugh. It was _his_ laugh. But the laugh was unlike any Sherlock had heard in all his months of living with the demon.

“I thought you all were gone” the demon smiled at the man Mycroft had brought, “or lost your minds.”

The man spoke: “Close your eyes”

Sherlock stared.

“He means you ‘Consulting Detective’” the demon winked at Sherlock “the name’s John Watson and the address is no longer 221B.”

Sherlock had closed his eyes. Light, almost painful, blossomed before his lids. He heard a scream. A scream that was both John and not John. A scream that would echo within every room of his Palace, every single day that he lived.

When the scream ended, he heard a soft and heavy thump.

“That’s done Mycroft, never again. That’s everything paid. Every generation past and every generation to come.”

When Sherlock opened his eyes, the man was gone. Mycroft was the colour of skimmed milk and John was on the floor.

Sherlock gathered John in his arms. He wanted to weep. He wanted to scream. He wanted to do everything that overwrought humans did when they lost someone they loved.

Sherlock did nothing. He simply held on.

When John was cremated, Sherlock took a portion of his ashes and placed them in a small, titanium, box. He placed the box in the pocket of his coat.

The day the ashes of John Hamish Watson were placed in the pocket of Sherlock Holmes’ coat, was the day Sherlock Holmes said goodbye to his brother. He hugged Mycroft briefly and then settled into a cab.

He was never seen again

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired directly by [Daftwithoneshoe's Demon!John .gif set](http://daftwithoneshoe.tumblr.com/tagged/Demon%21John%0A)


End file.
